Adrift
by rividori
Summary: House works on making things better between himself and Cuddy only to have the fragility of their relationship tested by the one person who now stands to lose everything. Post ep. 7x13 'Two Stories' House/Cuddy, House/Wilson. 2 Parts.
1. Part 1

He leaves Cuddy's office, relieved that he hasn't messed things up completely and that she seems to have forgiven him. Even though he hadn't been able to get Rachel into Cuddy's preferred pre-school, she at least could see that he had tried.

But it was about more than that. He told her he could do better, and it's likely that she'll take his words as a promise. A promise he doesn't know if he can keep. After all, he had to ask her for another chance. How many more times could he do that before she refused to give them to him? Before she finally has enough, and for real this time? And that will be the end of that, unless he can come up with another way to make her stay. And she should know that he will go to whatever lengths are necessary to make that happen, because she's right: he needs her. She gave him the chance he needed when she'd found him sitting on his bathroom floor on the brink of relapse. _She_ was his first chance... and his last.

He places his new toothbrush back inside his jacket and takes the elevator up to the fourth floor, thinking back to that night, and that morning.

He doesn't glance towards his office, knowing his team will call him when they have their patient's test results. Instead he heads to the adjacent office where he makes his way to the couch and sits down, looking over after a moment to see Wilson staring at him.

"What's the matter? Didn't you work things out with Cuddy?"

House lets this sink in for a moment, wondering how Wilson could have drawn that conclusion.

"I'm having dinner at her place."

Wilson inclines his head with a cautious raise of his brow. "That's good."

House turns his attention to the table in front of him where he puts his feet up. After a moment, Wilson prompts him, "Right?"

He stretches his arms out along the back of the couch, looks back to his friend, and grins. "Absolutely."

Wilson does not smile back, instead he watches him with that disapproving expression he's perfected over the years.

"What?" House snaps.

"You just don't look very..." Wilson doesn't finish voicing his line of thought and places his pen down. "So why was she mad at you?"

The sudden urge to tell him it's none of his damn business is a strong one, but he knows he can't do that now. He's made his entire relationship with Cuddy Wilson's business, so his questions on the topic shouldn't annoy him.

"Domestic issues."

Finally Wilson smiles at that, shaking his head. "Haven't been doing the dishes?"

"Something like that," House says, not liking the fact that Wilson was seeing the humour in this situation. He thought it was a joke. Not surprising. It sounded like a joke.

Thankfully his phone rings, giving him an excuse to ignore Wilson's look of incomprehension.

When he hangs up, he pays special attention to his inside pocket as he puts his phone away. "I would have just won a hundred dollars, if anyone had bet against me." He picks himself up and moves to the door, avoiding the impulse to look to his right on the way out.

* * *

The evening is far from perfect. Their recent falling out is still in the back of their minds, but they don't acknowledge it.

Still, it's an improvement from the past few days.

He makes love to her and everything is forgotten.

* * *

He meets her for lunch in the days that follow and things are a lot better for them both. That is until the day when her mood has plummeted again, and House is on edge, trying to think what it could be this time. She gives nothing away, but House knows it's coming. He won't be leaving her office today without her voluntary explanation.

He watches her closely as she finishes her lunch, has a drink, tidies her desk, and leans back in her chair; all to build up her nerve to say what's really on her mind. She doesn't look him in the eye as she speaks.

"You spend a lot of your time talking to Wilson about us."

Is that all it is?

"Wilson and I talk, just like he talks with you."

"Yes he does." She looks up at him now and as House remains quiet, she goes on. "He came to see me. Said you were unhappy. I think if you're unhappy, I should hear it from you, not him."

"I never said I wasn't happy," House says, surprised by this.

"Wilson seems to think so."

"Okay. Well, he can _think_ it if he likes but I never _said_ it."

"So he just made an assumption and felt like he should come and tell me about it?"

House thinks back to his brief talk with Wilson and realises his mistake: he'd worried him, and now he'd just made things worse.

Cuddy brushes it off. "Anyway, I'm just letting you know."

* * *

"What do you think you're doing?"

Wilson looks behind him into the entrance of his apartment.

"I _was_ having dinner."

House moves past him and lets himself in, seeing the half eaten meal on the table. "You talked to Cuddy," he says. He spins around and sees Wilson's eyes quickly flick up to his face and then away.

Wilson tries to act indifferent as he walks to the table. "So?"

"So? So you talked to her about our meaningless conversation, which was meaningless by the way, and then told her I was unhappy. Now she thinks I'm telling you things that I'm not telling her, which is sometimes true, but she's not supposed to know about it. We were getting better and you've come in and messed it all up again."

"I can honestly say I didn't mean to," Wilson says, sounding too casual. He continues eating his food, and ignoring him. House sits in front of him and leans in slightly.

"You're not embarrassed or ashamed about any of this? Not feeling guilty for putting me in this position? That means you're completely fine interfering in my relationship."

Wilson smiles around his wine glass. "Cuddy told you her theory did she?"

"No, she didn't." House leans back, studying him. "What do you two talk about when you have your girl time?"

"You, mostly. I'm surprised your ears aren't constantly burning." Wilson flashes him a smile and House is not quick enough to respond before Wilson continues. "I'm not trying to interfere in your relationship, House. Concern for a friend does not automatically translate to sabotage."

"Not all the time, anyway," House says.

"I'm not," Wilson assures.

House nods and leaves it at that. "Anyway," he says, "I'm more interested to see if you've kept your agreement. But I think the fact that you're dining alone tonight gives me my answer."

Wilson frowns, awaiting clarification.

"It's been 10 days. Well, technically it's been 12, but who's really counting?"

Wilson sets his knife and fork on his plate with a loud clink and gets up. "I thought you'd forgotten about that."

"Nope."

In the kitchen, Wilson starts running the water, and almost drowns out his next words. "I don't need anyone."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Sara keeps me company. And she's doing fine, thanks for asking."

"A _cat_, Wilson."

"Why do you even want this?"

"I don't want it. _You_ want it."

"No, you put up the challenge. You made it into a game. This is about you, and I'm still trying to figure out why."

They look at each other from either side of the kitchen counter and House stands. "You're _living..._ with a _cat_."

"Because I haven't found anyone."

"Because you haven't been looking."

"No, I haven't."

House straightens. He knows it won't last, but he's quietly relieved he isn't seeing anyone for the time being. Knowing that he's not even looking makes him feel even better, and it shouldn't. Because he's with Cuddy, so it doesn't matter. And it shouldn't matter. But if Wilson's with someone, he'll be able to tell himself that he's off limits again, in a manner of speaking. And if Wilson is with someone in the future, it won't be easy to accept but he'll be satisfied.

If Wilson stays in limbo like this it will only make things more sickening for him; to think that Sam was such a waste of time, that Wilson could allow her to come in and take everything away from him so easily, not least of all the secure and comfortable living arrangement he'd had since leaving Mayfield.

Now he's with Cuddy and Wilson isn't even trying.

"Why?" he asks.

Wilson dismisses the question with a shrug.

House doesn't ask any further, and as much as he doesn't want to, he leaves.

* * *

House is at Cuddy's later that night, sitting next to each other and watching TV. She takes his hand and holds it, shifting more comfortably against him.

"I talked to Wilson," he says, tilting his head to her as she looks up at him.

"Of course. Why wouldn't you?"

"I mean about what you said to me."

Cuddy closes her eyes tightly before opening them again. "Oh that. I hope you were... discreet about it."

"That's up for debate."

"What did you say?"

"I told him not to go around saying stuff about me." He strokes her hand with his thumb. "I'd prefer to keep you guessing," he adds, playfully.

"And what did he say?"

"Not much. Just that he's not interfering so quit being paranoid."

"Paranoid?" Cuddy looks at him as though the thought has just occurred to her. "So how is he really? Not still hung up on Sam is he?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I gave him ten days to hook up with someone and he didn't so it's out of my hands now."

"Why did you do that?"

"Because, Cuddy, he's living with a cat."

"Right, and you thought giving him an ultimatum would solve all his problems."

"I wanted to see what he'd do."

Cuddy runs a hand over her mouth, contemplating the man she's sitting with. "So what happens now?"

"Nothing," House says simply.

* * *

The next morning House meets Cuddy in the kitchen and as she sees him she directs Rachel out.

House moves to give Cuddy a brief kiss and turns to the fridge. From behind him, she speaks quietly but clearly.

"House?"

"Mmm?" House takes out the carton of orange juice and reaches in the cabinet for a glass – a well worn practise now.

"I've decided that this isn't going to work anymore."

House turns to her. "You've decided," he repeats, feeling his heart beat in alarm. Cuddy nods, pressing her lips together to suppress any emotion.

"Is this another semi break up where you need time alone...?"

"No."

"Is there at least a reason?"

"We were both realistic about the chances of this lasting, from the very first day," she explains. "And with our last 'break up' I suppose it just made me realise that we're probably not strong enough to go on."

She's studying his reaction and as hurt and confused as he is, House is cool as he replies smoothly, "Fine."

* * *

House keeps it to himself that day and the next, trying hard not to let it get to him until he walks into Wilson's office at the end of the day and sinks into the chair opposite him.

"Cuddy broke up with me. Wanna go get dinner?"


	2. Part 2

Getting something to eat is just a formality as they head to a bar, which had always been House's intended destination.

After hearing what had happened between him and Cuddy, Wilson had given him no advice about going back to her to sort everything out. And he's glad he didn't. All he wants is some familiar company.

Wilson is still sitting quietly beside him, staring down at the bar top. House returns to his newly refilled shot glass and sighs heavily. Here he was again.

Lifting the glass, Wilson suddenly reaches for his hand. "Whoa, wait. How many is that?"

House holds onto the fleeting seconds that Wilson's knee is up against his leg.

"One less since you just stopped me."

He feels detached from himself, like he's floating or maybe it's more like falling. When Wilson's this close all he can think about is the fact that _he's this close._ He wonders if Wilson realises what he does to him.

"You don't have to do this." Wilson says, taking the glass away from him and drinking it himself. He doesn't move all the way back into his seat. House watches him with narrowed eyes.

"Is that what you've been thinking to yourself this whole time?"

Wilson looks at him for a moment before replying, "Yes. So she broke up with you. You don't have to punish yourself for it."

He almost wants to say he deserves it just to hear Wilson try and tell him otherwise, because he knows he will. He knows that in this instance, Wilson is on his side. He's being the supportive friend, the same supportive friend who bought an apartment out from under Cuddy.

He could tell him. Now. Right now, when he's hazy from the alcohol and feeling the adrenaline of the moment. He looks into Wilson's eyes and his resolve strengthens, but it's the same old question: will Wilson share what he feels? He doesn't think Wilson would stop being his friend, but he'd probably look at him differently. They wouldn't be as close. Suddenly there'd be a sexual aspect that Wilson wouldn't be able to separate from. He'd become uncomfortable and House wouldn't be able to stand it. It wouldn't be the same.

"House?"

"I don't know what to do now," he says, and looks away because he realises he's been staring too long. There's nothing in front of him to distract him. "I'm alone again. And you know... I haven't been alone since I left Mayfield. Even after I left... you... Alvie was living with me and then me and Cuddy happened. I don't want things to go back to how they were before. I'm over it." He stares straight ahead, resisting the urge to face him again. He continues, voicing a thought that has just occurred to him. "It had something to do with you."

"What did?"

"Why she broke up with me."

There's silence before Wilson asks quietly, "What did she say?"

House lifts his shoulders carelessly. "I just got the feeling since we'd been talking about you the night before."

"Is this because I spoke to her?"

"Who knows."

Again, Wilson leaves a stretch of silence following this. "You don't blame me do you?"

House sits back a little in his seat to take a better look at his friend and shakes his head. "No."

"Okay," he nods, not looking any less guilty which House finds interesting. "Now that you're not with her I kind of feel like I can say this." Wilson pauses, still looking House in the eye. "She doesn't deserve you. And I know I said once that I thought it was the other way around, but House, come on, she was using you and your relationship with her against yourself. And I'm only sorry I couldn't tell you this before. I should have. But I know you wanted it to work, and I wanted that for you too, but it didn't go the way I think you wanted it to. Or maybe it did but you were both unprepared to deal with the reality of it."

"I've been waiting for you to dish up the words of wisdom. You didn't disappoint."

"Just being a friend," Wilson says sadly.

"Forget it, Wilson. I don't want you imploding from all this guilt. If you had told me this before I probably would have ignored you anyway. Since when do I listen to you?" House smiles lazily to show him that he's okay, anything to avoid continuing this serious talk.

Wilson still appears unconvinced but he lets it go. He stands and places his hand on House's arm. "Let me take you home."

Ignoring the fact that Wilson touching him clearly has a paralysing effect on him, he still manages to agree to this with a small nod of his head.

Home, as it turns out, is not his own apartment but Wilson's. House doesn't say anything but as they take the elevator up, Wilson explains, "I'll feel better if you're here with me. I can keep an eye on you."

"I told you I don't want to go back to how I was before. That includes Vicodin. So if you think I'm going to run off..." Wilson doesn't respond to that but they both know it's the unspoken possibility. "So how closely are you going to watch me?" House makes sure his voice is dripping innuendo but hides his smile as Wilson turns around to him.

"Sorry. I'd offer to share but Sara takes up too much room."

"Oh," House says, swinging his cane forward and hitting Wilson in the back of the leg, causing a noise of irritation and a glare to match. "Don't put ideas in my head, Wilson. I could be on the rebound. I might just feel like kicking her out."

"Good thing I have _two_ bedrooms then," Wilson replies as he unlocks the front door and the two men step inside.

"How can you keep your eye on me if we're in separate rooms?"

Wilson places his keys down. "I guess that's a valid point." And he looks at House, knowing that he won't take him seriously, that there's nothing to read there but the continued joke. Just once he wants to think that Wilson is only hiding behind it, and to pretend that things will work out exactly as he wants.

Maybe House was wrong about his resolve. Maybe it's not strengthening, only weakening, because he's already taken a step forward, he's already leaning in.

When it becomes apparent that Wilson is not backing away, House stops. His nerve fails him. He didn't think this through. This is too much.

He moves back to a more acceptable distance. "You were going to let me kiss you."

He watches Wilson struggle to keep eye contact. In the time that's he unable to respond, House sees him withdraw right before him. His entire demeanour changes until his next words are rendered shy and embarrassed.

"So... why didn't you?"

His heart is beating way too fast now. After doing no less than asking for it, he's still not ready to believe that Wilson would let him in like that.

Wilson's expression begins to resemble someone who has just been tricked and finally he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. "Wow, okay," he murmurs, looking at the floor and walking away into the apartment.

House is left standing there, realising what's happening and not believing it.

Abandoning his cane, he follows Wilson, catching up with him in the hallway. Wilson turns an untroubled face to him that cannot hide the hurt in his eyes. House takes him by the arms, looking at him and gathering himself before he kisses him. His eyes close firmly as he lets this moment go on, not breathing until he has no choice but to open his mouth against Wilson's lips.

He feels Wilson reach around him, pulling him in, and House moves with him, unapologetic in his desire to be closer; too many years of keeping his hands to himself.

Wilson's back is to the wall and now that he knows Wilson isn't going anywhere, he slows down, allowing his overloaded mind to catch up. He tastes impatience and longing and the knowledge that he's not the only one who's been waiting.

Their hold on each other doesn't lessen as they pull away, looking at each other, and realising what they've just started.

* * *

It's no coincidence that he happens to be in the hospital's main entrance as Wilson finishes his hours in the clinic. And luckily for him, Wilson doesn't notice him until he's standing right behind him. Wilson turns his head slightly, looking down and back towards him from the corner of his eye, probably thinking he must be up to something, but not telling him to step away. House merely looks over his shoulder as Wilson finishes filing things away before he takes his opportunity to get away with a little harmless fun. As he's discovered, whispering his plans for the evening in his ear is one delightful way of getting Wilson to blush.

Cuddy's voice cuts through from the side. "House. In my office please," she says, summoning House like a troublesome student.

"Uh oh," House mutters to Wilson before following his boss back to her office.

As the door closes behind him, he's the first to speak. "What's up?"

Cuddy turns on her heel to face him. "I was wondering if you'd like my job," she says, speaking with a false air of professionalism.

"What?" he asks, not expecting that but willing to play along.

"My job, House. Since you like usurping my position here you may as well just take over now and be done with it. I see you've gone ahead and booked your patient's procedure not 24 hours after I advised you not to."

House leans lazily on his left. "Are we really going to do this?"

"By rights I should fire you. Make an example out of you. For too long now you've had a privileged position at this hospital that you continually take for granted. You're walking a fine line."

"Haven't you come to expect that by now?" he remarks off-hand, knowing that all she is giving him are empty threats. In a lot of ways, he is the hospitals asset. She can easily admit to it but rarely ever likes it. She needs him.

Cuddy's eyes see past him then as she looks out through her office door. House follows her eyes and sees Wilson only now leaving the front desk and walking away.

"He seems to have been helping you a lot with this."

"If 'this' is referring to _us_," he looks at Cuddy,_ "_then yes, he's helped me."

She stares at him openly, scrutinising him closely, and House knows the question that's on the tip of her tongue. While he and Wilson have not made things overly public there was no hiding the shift in their relationship. Of course Cuddy would notice.

"Are you sleeping with him?" It is easy to hear in the low whisper of her question that she can't believe it, and yet a small part of her must have thought it was possible or she wouldn't have asked.

Not that she needs to know one way or the other, but he can't help himself when he says, "Define sleeping."

For a moment she looks scandalised as she takes the truth from that herself. "Well... you move on quickly," she says, regaining her composure, forcing civility into her voice.

House shrugs. "If you think so."

Cuddy lowers her eyes, brushing her hand across her forehead. "Either way I got my answer." She turns around, moving back towards her desk.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because you chose him over me," she says simply, looking back at him. "I wanted you to prove me wrong, House. I wanted you to fight for us and you didn't. So... that's it."

Cuddy leans against her desk, folding her arms. The distance between them seems to continually expand.

House screws his eyes shut briefly as he tries to make sense of this. "You wanted me to come running back to you?" House asks with a bitter edge to his smile. "Beg you to take me back?"

Her eyes are shining as she matches his levelled stare, not backing down or looking away.

"You've always loved him more than you've ever let on. But I chose to ignore it; it was none of my business. But then we were together and I don't want to be constantly thinking that I'm second best. And if I could see it then what does that say for Wilson? I know he's always there for you when you need him because that's just the type of man he is. So let me guess: he was feeling sorry for you and then he conveniently told you he loves you and offered you something more. And you took it. What does that say for _you_? What does that say for _us_?" She sighs, wiping a finger under her eye. "This isn't the first time he's gone behind my back to punish me for something that he thinks I did to you. But I'm honestly afraid that you're the one who will get hurt in all this."

He'd never thought that Cuddy could be this heartless. She knows him well enough to realise that she's feeding his insecurity and self-doubt, taking his new relationship, positioning him in that frame of mind, and then stripping him of his confidence. She makes him sound desperate, like someone holding on in vain to a dream that will never happen when in reality that was the man he'd been when she'd come to him all those months ago.

After all this time trying to do the right thing to keep this relationship going, she'd treated it so carelessly. But House knows Wilson better than Cuddy does. They've already gone over all the reasons why they never said anything before now and they've both agreed that it doesn't matter anymore. He knows where he stands with Wilson.

"Wilson loves me. And I don't want you if I can have him. Congratulations. You were right."

* * *

Tonight isn't any different to what they might normally be doing before he was dating Cuddy, except now he can slide his hand over Wilson's leg without asking, and count the seconds before Wilson makes the next move.

This time Wilson turns the TV off and sets the remote on the table. He turns to his side, resting his arm out on the back of the couch alongside him. They look at each other and House is waiting for whatever comes next.

"I was thinking that you should move in with me. Permanently."

House looks around, considering this place as his new home. "And what benefits would I get for being a permanent resident?"

Wilson looks thoughtful. "I'll let you leave the milk in any part of the fridge."

House laughs. "You're saying that _now_..."

"Would you like it in writing?"

"No, I've got a good memory."

"So is that a yes?"

"I don't know. I'll think about it."

Wilson smiles but regret comes over his expression and he glances down, shifting a little closer.

"I originally bought this place for us," he says, "but if you're uncomfortable living here because of everything that happened... if that's why you're not sure... maybe we should start again somewhere else?"

As he looks at him, House gets the feeling that Wilson's holding his breath.

But what he just said doesn't matter to House. All he cares about is that he's with him after thinking for so long that he would live his whole life without ever having this.

"I was never going to say no."

Wilson gives him a smile, placing his hand at House's neck, leaning in. "Good."


End file.
